


To catch a Catfish

by IceboundEmu



Category: LoveLink (Video Game)
Genre: 2x MC, Basically all the college boys will appear in some form at some point, Catfish MC, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Helpful MC, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceboundEmu/pseuds/IceboundEmu
Summary: Sam Knight is looking for help to a problem he's having.For Student counsellor MC this isn't the first time it has happened, but they're going to make sure it's the last.Maybe along the way they'll help Sam sort himself out too.
Relationships: Charlie Nyygard/Catfish MC, Sam Knight/Catfish MC, Sam Knight/MC
Kudos: 6





	To catch a Catfish

**Author's Note:**

> An exploration of my idea that the MC's actions in some of the story arcs probably make them the ultimate catfish. So I created another MC to find them out.

Life as a student counsellor was boring for the most part.

You’d taken the post for some extra credit for your course, figuring that if you were looking for a career in Psychiatry the experience of helping your fellow students with their problems could only be valuable experience in a cut throat job market. What you’d found for the most part was that you did not want listen to the complaints of people who thought that Daddy cutting up their credit card after they’d maxed it out was a reason to reduce themselves to hysterics. It probably wouldn’t be as lucrative a career in the long run, but at least you reasoned you’d get genuine satisfaction out of helping people with problems.

Taking advantage of the lull in drop ins that always occurred around lunchtime (as your usual visitors took their time to pick apart their lives over the salads they would barely allow themselves to eat) you were catching up on one of your assignments when you heard the bell over the door chime, signalling a visitor.

You looked up, lips forming a greeting and tripped over your own tongue as you took in the fact the Sam Knight was standing in the doorway. He for the most part missed your dumbfounded expression, the unexpected noise of the bell had drawn his attention and he clutched the door with white knuckles as you saw the war rage in him on whether to flee now that you knew he was there. 

If you didn’t suspect the action would make him turn tail and run you’d have pulled out your phone to take a picture, to shove under your supervisor’s nose as evidence that alerting people to their presence made the few genuine cases you came across extremely nervous. It wasn’t worth a repeat of the argument you had the last time on the topic that “visitors should be greeted in a timely manner vs people talk when they’re ready”. Allegedly failure to acknowledge the arrival of some of the main drama queens as soon as they came into the office, could result in your already limited funding being cut, which was strange as they never seemed to experience problems making their presence known.

The fact that this was one of the legends of the college campus standing in your doorway spiked your interest. Sam was one of the well-known faces to anyone, (even to you, who your friends liked to joke, lived under a rock) and if the rumours were to be believed led the “perfect life”. Inwardly you’d scoffed at such a notion, confident in the knowledge that there was no such thing existed. After you’d found he was attending on a full scholarship you’d drawn your own conclusions about the intense pressure he must be under to ensure he kept up to standard. Previously though he’d shown no outward signs of suffering, you wondered what had happened to tip the balance.

If you could get him to stay that was, he still didn’t seem to have come to a decision on whether he wanted to stay to talk.

“Hi, Sam Knight isn’t it?”

You found your voice for long enough to manage a coherent greeting, which you mentally patted yourself on the back for. It directed his attention away from the bell and horror filled grey eyes met your gaze as it dawned on him that the reception was manned. Maybe he’d been hoping to sneak in for some leaflets, the sexual health clinic also shared space with you, which made for some awkwardness for their visitors, who weren’t keen on their problems becoming general knowledge. 

You inwardly sighed as you remembered there were still a few on campus who wouldn’t make eye contact with you after previous encounters in the waiting room. You’d have moved the rack outside if you hadn’t suspected the leaflets would then litter the campus and the students would use the free contraceptives as tree decorations. Maybe if you could get some sort of screen installed?

Sam still hadn’t moved.

“I can close my eyes for a minute if you want to grab something and run?”

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time you’d made the offer and without a change to the layout or a move to a new office it wouldn’t be the last. He glanced in the direction of what you were indicating and the sight of it seemed to shock his voice into action.

“Oh god no, I don’t need any of that!!!”

He took a half step back and you feared he was going to run without revealing the reason for the visit. Choosing your next words carefully so not to spook him further you tried to appear as unthreatening as possible.

“If you come in and close the door, I can put it on the latch? Then if anyone needs to come in, they’ll have to knock, and it’ll give you time to hide? Plus, we’ve got a back exit I can show you so no one will see you coming out of here?”

His face had taken on a shade almost as grey as his eyes were as he appeared to consider what you’d just offered him. Then, accepting what you were saying he stepped further into the room, pushing the door shut behind him and leaning against it before giving out a trembling sigh. Stepping round the counter so you could reach the door caused Sam to jerk away in shock, you held up your hands in a placating gesture as you motioned towards the door.

“Sorry…”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at Sam’s understatement, not wanting to freak him out further. Flicking the catch up so the Yale lock dropped closed gave a little more security that someone wouldn’t just walk in whilst you were talking. Any of the staff dropping in would know to knock before using their key. Still, using the private office might be the best way forward to ensure he was as comfortable as possible.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s understandable to be a little nervous the first time.”

That was your first litmus test to assess how genuine a problem was. Sam didn’t even smile at the innuendo, which just added to the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach that you were about the walk into a shitstorm. Sam bristled a little.

“I’m not nervous!”

You didn’t bother to try and argue with him, even with the door locked the terror was coming off Sam in waves. If he wanted to play defensive that was his choice to make. You needed to earn his trust before he’d open up to you about what was on his mind.

“We’ve got a private office over here to talk in. It’s usually more comfortable to chat if you’re sitting down. Could I get you anything to drink? Water? Tea? Coffee?”

You hoped Sam didn’t chose a caffeinated option. He licked his lips, and you knew he must be realising how dry his throat was.

“Some water would be nice.”

You smiled at him and went back round the desk, snagging a bottle of water from the fridge under it and swinging yourself back, motioning with your free hand for Sam to follow you. The private office was your own personal pride and joy, decorated a few months back by Jake Gonzales and Zayn Kassab as thanks for some assistance you’d provided for a third member of their group, Charlie Nyygard with an issue he was experiencing. 

They’d (jokingly you hoped) told you they painted in the nude, still, you’d made sure the office was empty whilst they worked. Once the paint was dry, you’d worked with the other volunteers to move some furniture in to make the place functional for visitors.

There was a table and chairs in the corner for those who wanted a more traditional face to face chat, though 2 sides were blocked by a wall so the people sat at a ninety degree angle whilst they talked, rather than across the table, to remove it being used as a barrier. But Sam, as did most visitors, lit up at the beanbag seats, choosing to dive into one. Once he’d turned over and got comfortable you handed him the water and snagged your own favourite beanbag, dragging it close to Sam’s and settling down on it.

“This is so cool”

He twisted the top off the bottle and drained half the contents in a couple of swallows, replacing the cap and dropping the half full container onto the floor next to him. You remained silent, wondering whether he would take the first step in admitting the reason for his visit or whether further prompting was needed. As the silence lengthened you saw his jitters start to return and decided you should probably take the lead in this.

“So, was there something you wanted to talk about?”

There was that look again, the one that told you Sam was weighing up whether to make up a lie and run or trust you with what was eating him up inside. Not wanting to force his hand you let him come to a decision, knowing he was about to speak when he drew in a deep shuddering breath.

“I’m a complete and utter fraud and I don’t deserve to be here.”

As opening lines went that was a hell of one. Not wanting to respond with platitudes, you took a second to marshal your thoughts. Part of you wished there were someone else in the office you could speak to regarding this, a second opinion was often invaluable. The room was covered by CCTV but that was just set to record any inappropriate behaviour or aggressive conduct, it wasn’t set to record sound.

“Okay, how long have you been feeling like this Sam?”

“What does that matter?!”

Deflecting a direct question wasn’t a good start, but you decided to humour him and explain why you’d asked for that information.

“I just need to know whether this has been something you’ve been thinking for a while and whether it was before or since starting college? If you’ve only started feeling like this recently, we can see if something might have happened to set it off?”

He seemed to think this through and consider the question carefully. Still, he ran a shaking hand through his blonde hair before he replied.

“I don’t know…I suppose I’ve always sort of been terrified I’m going to lose my spot on the team. I’m not good at the work for my degree, my maths teacher is threatening to fail me, my coach is on at me to practice more, work wants me in for more hours if I want to keep my job, my fraternity are complaining I don’t spend enough time with them, Roger…”

He choked up at the last one and you felt a stab of pity for him. Roger Knight was also well known round the town and he ran one of the towns firms of solicitors The Knight family had lived in the town for generations and never seemed to leave, they were born and died here. Your own parents had attended school (and later college) with him and neither of them ever had anything particularly nice to say on him. Your father had fallen foul of what he described as Roger’s “vindictive streak” when they played together on the basketball team. The fact that Sam referred to his father by his Christian name should probably speak volumes.

But Sam had probably been struggling with all those he listed since the start of college, or before in his father’s case, it didn’t explain what had pushed him to seek help? He didn’t strike you as just suffering mental fatigue though his schedule must have been punishing, even to a young and healthy eighteen-year-old. You decided another push might be in order.

“Is there something else that’s happened recently to make you feel more pressure?”

You winced internally at the clumsy and awkward phrasing of your question. But despite that it drew a response from Sam.

“Well…I met a girl on Lovelink…”

Sam’s response made you want to grind your teeth in frustration at the mention of the dating app that seemed to cause so much heartbreak amongst the students of the campus. At the same time, you were struck by a sinking sensation as you recalled another blond who’d sat in the same room with you and been in a similar mess whose opener to you had been along the same lines. Substitute Sam’s grey eyes for brown and you’d be having the conversation with Charlie Nyygard.

Sam mistook your silence for incomprehension and dug in his pocket for his phone, unlocking the screen with practiced ease and loading up the app before offering it to you. You took that at his consent to look at his sole active match, heart sinking further as you recognised the username of the match he’d been chatting with. Apparently, Jake reporting the user to Lovelink’s moderator hadn’t provoked any response from them, or if they’d blocked her, she’d just gone and set up another account.

Magenta Chase, or MC as you’d come to know her from your time with Charlie was back and was ruining lives again.

“Sam? Can I look at your conversations please?”

He nodded his assent, and you opened the screen to their latest interaction. Taking a deep breath yourself, you scrolled back to the start of the chat, intending to see just how bad it was.

If it was anything as bad as the last time, then this was going to be horrific. Bracing yourself for the worst you started to read.


End file.
